


Club Nouveau: L'amour Sauvage

by halfpastten



Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [57]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Fetish Clothing, Hand Jobs, Horse cock, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Latex, Leather, M/M, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pokephilia, Public Sex, Sex Club, Shameless Smut, Stranger Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastten/pseuds/halfpastten
Summary: Instead of going to the masked ball event in Lacunosa Town, Cilan ends up in the mysterious Club Nouveau.
Relationships: Dent | Cilan/Original Male Character(s), Shiozaki | Simeon/Zebraika | Zebstrika
Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615384
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Club Nouveau: L'amour Sauvage

Cilan’s lips tug up into a smile at Ramone’s raunchy joke. “I don’t think that’s how legs work,” he says, trying for deadpan, and then he laughs with the others, no longer able to hold it inside. Around them, other shoppers look for a moment, but they are just a group of young adults having some fun on a Friday afternoon.

“Hey, where’s Simeon?” Dawn asks, who has come to Lacunosa Town for a visit. She looks stunning, having grown into her looks. A young Teddiursa sits snug in her arms. Relatively new in her team, his keen eyes notice, but already showing good trust. Promising. “He was just here!”

“I think he went that way,” Cilan says and turns around. “Wait for a moment, I’ll go get him.” With a little wave, the dapper-dressed Connoisseur leaves his friends to enter a somewhat gloomy-looking store. Some of the items look interesting, but most seem to be for scene people. A lot of leather, band merchandise, rivets and dangerous-looking heels.

He finds Simeon at the shoe section, staring at a display of the most outrageous boots Cilan has ever seen: the plateaus are two inches high and the bootleg reaches the upper thigh of the mannequin, dressed with a ridiculous number of little belts and shiny rivets.

“Didn’t know that’s your style,” he tries for a joke, but he notices the way Simeon’s cheeks flush the moment he knows Cilan is watching. Simeon looks embarrassed.

“Just curious,” his friend says hurriedly, trying to safe face. “I mean, come on, those look like you would break your legs in them, right?” The smile is strained, but Cilan latches onto that excuse and laughs, nodding along.

“Yes, they look ridiculous,” he adds and reaches over to pull Simeon away from those fetish boots. “Come, the others are waiting for us. I think food’s on the table.”

“Ah, ehm… good, I’m really hungry,” Simeon says and Cilan ignores the hesitation there. The less he thinks about Simeon’s apparent taste in fetish wear, the better.

\---

“Have you heard? Today’s evening event?” Georgia asks, eyes gleaming. “It’s a _masked ball_! I’m definitely going, who else is?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Cilan says, but he takes one of the leaflets Georgia pushes onto them all. It looks nice - a night’s dance to celebrate the change of season.

“You better come, Cilan,” Dawn laughs and Horatio nods to it. “Or else Georgia will pout the rest of the week I’m here.”

“That’s lies and slander,” Georgia says with a sly smile and then looks around. “What about you two? Simeon, Cassie?”

“Oh, I’m coming,” Cassie says and squeals. “I can try on my new dress! Oh, but I still need a mask!”

“They’re selling them right at the entrance.”

“Simeon, you coming?”

Cilan looks over and sees Simeon hesitating before shaking his head. “Sorry,” the young man says with a sheepish grin. “But I kinda have something else to do tonight.”

“Oh, boo,” Georgia and Cassie say, but Ramone leans over with interest.

“Is it a date?”

“No way!”

“Finally, Simeon! Who is it?”

“It’s not a date!”

The group dissolves in laughter and speculation and friendly teasing, but Cilan feels a bit suspicious, watching Simeon deflect any serious questions with the ease of someone who deflects often. _Huh._

\---

They disperse soon after lunch. It isn’t until later that night that Cilan comes to a decision - he isn’t tired yet, and the prospect of spending a night dancing with his friends appeal to him. So he dresses up, choosing his charcoal suit that tapers off handsomely at his waist, with the deep burgundy shirt underneath and an equally black tie. Binding his hair into a tight little ponytail, he takes the time to search for a bone-white mask he’d used last Halloween. It is a simple design - a plain, form-fitting mask covering the upper half of his face, the eyes rimmed with golden swirls. It is certainly elegant enough for a masked ball, and paired with his soft leather gloves he makes a fine impression in the mirror.

When he searches for the leaflet Georgia gave him, however, he cannot find it.

“Oh, well,” he says to himself. “It’s a big event in town. I’ll find it if I just ask someone.”

And true enough, there are still people around and about this night. He follows a small group walking towards the centre of the town, dressed neatly and giggling with anticipation. Cilan takes his time, however, and between two turns, he loses sight of the group. There is faint music in the air and he aims towards it until he sees another person not far away.

“Excuse me,” he calls out and the person turns. A woman, he thinks, dressed in a black dress with a rather revealing corset and a similar white mask on her face. Her lips are painted a deep red and she smiles at him in a way that almost makes him blush.

“Hello there, handsome,” she purrs and her hand is on his arm. “Are you going to the dance?”

“Yes,” he says, wondering if he should step away from this woman. But she smiles again and tugs at his arm.

“Let me show you the way, darling.”

He follows her, a bit wary but also thankful that she is helping him. Only that she leads him away from the main street and into a dimly lit alley. “Uhm,” he says, because it doesn’t go anywhere and ends at a wall. But she keeps on tugging him and then knocks on a door close to the end of the alley, and then she pushes him through it before Cilan can turn around.

“Have fun, darling,” she says and closes the door in front of his face, leaving him inside the building. Alarmed, Cilan turns around and finds himself in a cramped corridor. The light is still dim, but he can feel plush carpet under his dress shoes. The walls are covered in red velvet and the ceiling is a swath of taffeta. Loud, electronic beats thrum through the building, his heartbeat drowned out by the volume.

When he tries the door again, it doesn’t open.

“Hey, handsome, this way,” a male voice says from behind him, and Cilan jumps. The man chuckles and like the woman before, simply takes Cilan’s arm and tugs him with him. The grip is firm but doesn’t hurt and when Cilan tries to protest, the man shushes him. “No reason to be afraid,” he says and pulls him along the corridor. Other people come in sight - people dressed in black, with white masks on their faces of different designs. Some move to the music, altogether too sensual for comfort. Some seem to talk, excitement in the air.

One person pushes a drink into Cilan’s free hand, fizzy and colourful, and then they enter a room that is almost cast in complete darkness but for a raised stage in the middle. One spotlight lits up the gilded cage around it and after a moment, Cilan can see little tables of four surrounding the stage, with people sitting there and drinking and talking with anticipation.

“Here, sit down, handsome,” the stranger tells him and Cilan finds himself in the middle of the audience, a drink in his hand and strangers surrounding him. More and more come to fill the room and even his table is soon full.

Anxiety thrumming through his body, his ears roaring with the music, Cilan takes a sip from his drink and then another, bigger one, asking himself what he’s gotten into now and if it would be polite (and even possible) to leave, like, right now.

“Today’s show is my favourite,” the man tells him, sitting close by. Cilan tries to ignore that he is wearing a tight latex bodysuit, glittering belts crossing all over it. He tries to ignore the highlighted crotch area, tight as a glove there, too. “L'amour Sauvage; he’s so talented and, hmh, _dedicated_. You’ll love it.”

“What is-” Cilan tries to say, but his voice is drowned out by another one - a woman speaks, the smoky voice alluring as she announces loudly the first act of tonight. More spotlights aim for the gilded cage stage and a ramp opens there, revealing a slowly rising figure.

Cilan’s throat goes dry for a moment as his eyes lock onto the dancer for tonight. It is a man; very clearly it is a man, his torso bare but for a few gilded leather straps, golden rings piercing his nipples and bronze powder covering his skin. His cock, Cilan notices, is barely covered in a leather cup, gilded rivets glittering in the light.

The most skin covered are his legs, and the sight has Cilan’s mouth watering and his heart beating like crazy. The dancer wears leather boots, with two-inch high plateaus, the bootlegs reaching up to his upper thighs and lavished with belts all over the length. They’re hugging his legs tight, and Cilan knows those boots.

He drinks more of his cocktail, cheeks burning, wanting out of here but unable to look away when the dancer turns, revealing a bare ass. There is something there, but Cilan can’t quite see. He’s soo entranced that, for a moment, he doesn’t notice a warm hand on his own thigh. “He’s so fuckable, isn’t he, handsome?” the man whispers, and Cilan can’t say anything, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his whole body fuzzy and warm.

The hand massages his thigh, and Cilan leans back, eyes still on the dancer who slowly walks a circle along the cage bars, every move graceful and sensual, his smile wicked. His mask, Cilan notices, is pitch black, his lips painted golden.

And then, reaching the middle of the stage again, the music gives a blasting crescendo and the dancer bends down the middle, exposing his bare ass for Cilan to see, and he nearly spits out his drink when he sees the huge dildo lodged securely in that man’s stretched asshole. He even wiggles his ass a bit as the crowd goes crazy.

“Fuck,” Cilan’s new friend says, breathing harshly and swallowing. His fingers squeeze Cilan’s thigh almost to the point of pain and Cilan hisses, too. He tells himself it’s from the grip, but in reality, he can feel his cock harden in his pants, eyes locked onto that dildo.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be at the Masked Ball, dancing away with his friends, not sitting here in this questionable fetish club watching a grown man bend and stretch, the dildo barely moving.

“Wait for it, newbie, here he comes-”

A whinny interrupts the music, and Cilan knows that sound. Another platform raises and there is the Zebstrika, preening and stomping his hooves, eyes soon on the dancer who gets up again with a wanton smile. The music changes - still fast and electronic, the beats urging on Cilan’s own heart to match its pace. But it now has a rhythm, and the moment the Zebstrika is fully in the cage, the dance begins.

It is, Cilan thinks dimly, unlike any dance he has ever seen. He also doesn’t remember any dance giving him a painful boner. He watches as the dancer approaches the Zebstrika and moves around the Pokemon, body pressed against him, before jumping onto his back. What follows is the most debauchery and exotic display of human gymnastics on the back of a Pokemon he’s ever seen. The dancer literally _gyrates_ on top of the male Zebstrika, hands roaming the sides and chest and back of the Pokemon. Rolls over and does a handstand, legs into a split above his arched back, dildo once again on display. The small belt buckles of the boots glitter in the light as bright as the bronze powder and the bars of the gilded cage, mesmerizing and unearthly in Cilan’s eyes.

 _Such strong trust,_ the part of his brain that is still Connoisseur thinks. _Remarkable, the compatibility is off the charts!_

It doesn’t take long until said Pokemon starts to get hard. With the spotlights on the two, it’s easy to see for Cilan, who watches the cock grow into absurd lengths in confused arousal and something like horror. Next to him, his new friend is panting now, kneading Cilan’s thigh and his hand up and down.

When he looks to the side, Cilan sees the stranger’s other hand on his latex-covered cock, just as hard as Cilan is.

 _I need to get out of here_ , he thinks, but his drink is almost empty and his head is fuzzy and he feels so hot and horny, his cock tenting out his dress pants. He looks back at the dancer, who slowly slides off of Zebstrika’s back only to go on all fours, presenting his uphold ass to his Pokemon, rivets and boot belts glinting in the harsh light.

He watches as Zebstrika lowers his head and catching the end of the dildo with his teeth before, ever so slowly, pulling it out of the dancer’s ass.

Watches as Zebstrika steps forward, whinnying again. The crowd goes nuts, yelling and whooping and encouraging the Pokemon. The music takes off again, and then Zebstrika thrusts his cock into the dancer’s ass, and suddenly the hand on Cilan’s thigh is placed on his cock and he doesn’t do anything as his pants is opened and his cock is pulled out.

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” his new friend shouts as he jerks off Cilan, who gasps and moans and fucks into the hand, not able to look away as the Zebstrika fucks into the dancer’s ass. He can see how his belly bulged with each thrust, can see how the dancer arches his back and moans, face drawn into heated bliss. Cilan can’t stop looking, because he knows who this is, who has looked at the boots, who has gone back into the shopping mall after lunch was over, who _owned a Zebstrika_ just like this.

He knows that it is Simeon who is getting brutally fucked on a lit stage, inside a gilded cage, with leather-clad people watching and masturbating and probably fucking, as well. Like Cilan, who thrusts helplessly into the offered hand of a stranger, who reaches out as well, blindly groping until his fingers wind around said stranger’s latex-covered cock.

He comes soon after, around the time his new friend bends down to take his cock into his mouth. Cilan loses his grip on the other man’s erection, but he finds he doesn’t care. Feeling his cock sucked into a hot and wanting mouth while watching one of his best friends getting rawed by his favourite Pokemon is more important.

Coming into that hot, sucking mouth and watching a stranger _swallow_ his cum is more important.

On stage, Zebstrika neighs, head thrown back and eyes rolling. Simeon screams and Cilan gasps and the stranger moans as the Pokemon bucks forward for a last time, cock lodged into his trainer’s ass, pumping seed into his belly. After a few moments, the music still blasting around them, the Zebstrika pulls out and a gush of cum follows. The crowd roars its approval again, louder when Simeon collapses. His ass is on display, his hole wide-open and clenching over nothing but Zebstrika’s cum that dribbles out, and the stranger is still cleaning off Cilan’s dick when the spotlights turn off one by one until only one is shining.

“And for the next act-!”

\---

Cilan wakes up in his apartment, head pounding and body aching. He’s in his bed, undressed to his underpants and a glass of water and some painkillers are placed on his bedside table, together with his mask and an envelope.

His memories of the previous night return via voicemail of Georgia, pointedly asking him why he hasn’t been at the ball, and that Simeon has also been missing.

“What the-” he murmurs, taking the pill and eyeing the envelope after putting his phone down. The memories of yesterday are hazy at best - flashes of lust and bodies, of bright lights and loud music, of a warm mouth around his cock and cum dribbling out of Simeon’s…

“Oh,” he says, eyes wide and wincing despite the medicine starting to work. He hastily checks himself, but with the exception of some light bruising on his thighs, there’s no sign that he, too, had been taken in a more literal manner. He shudders at the thought (and the remaining memories, which are mostly pleasant if weird) and takes the envelope off the table. Flipping it open, he finds a note and a card in it.

It’s a letter and a membership card, he sees. The card is a rich cream-colour, the writing done in gilded ink. _Club Nouveau_ , it reads. No name, just the number 47. Turning it around, there is the address.

The letter is handwritten as well, congratulating him for his acceptance and inviting him to the next show in two weeks’ time. It’s vague, but there are some hints that all members are welcome to put together an act for the fortnightly show as well if you put in the request.

Cilan thinks of the things he’d seen the night before, flashes of naked flesh, men and women and Pokemon displaying themselves on that stage, the other guests more and more dissolving into a mass of lust, and he thinks he might’ve done more with the latex-clad stranger.

 _Twelve,_ his mind whispers. He said his name was Twelve. For a moment, Cilan wants to burn it all, envelope and letter and card, but his cock weights heavy between his thighs, plumb with memories and the thrill of something new and exciting.

He thinks of Simeon and the way he’s taken his Zebstrika so easily. Thinks of a hand around his cock, uninvited and still welcome. Of the fizzy drinks and loud music and pulsing bodies, of swaying breasts and hard cocks and glistening thighs and the taste of cum on his tongue.

With a deep breath, Cilan puts the envelope away before going to shower himself. He’s to meet his friends again, in the park.

Simeon would be there.

\---

It is easier than he thought to meet Simeon’s eyes and smile. “Hey,” he greets him. “I think Georgia’s angry with us.”

“Well, I told her I had other things to do. What about you?” Simeon looks like always and not at all like he’s spent the previous night getting fucked by his Pokemon’s horsecock. It is strangely arousing, but Cilan keeps his own innocent appearance up.

“Headache,” he says with a crooked smile and waves when Dawn and Ramone come into sight. “By the way, did you buy those boots yet?” His voice suggests a joke, as does his smile, and after a short, shocked silence, Simeon buys it and fakes a laugh, not quite hiding the blush.

“And break my legs? No, thank you,” he says and turns away a bit too quickly.

Cilan wonders, then, if he would see Simeon again next meeting. And he looks forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**
> 
> The idea was prompted by Prog24 on my Discord server.


End file.
